


Darling I Will Be Loving You Till We're Seventy

by Madzie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hale pack is all the cute things, Kinda, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Stiles and Derek are married and lovely and so so so in love, handjobs, like seriously, warning for cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madzie/pseuds/Madzie
Summary: Derek has on one of his patent who the fuck have I promised my life too  looks—which mainly consists of his eye brows scrunched up in wonderment, and his  front teeth sinking into  his bottom lip, so to fight against the smile threatening to curl on the corners of his sinful mouth.





	

“Honey, I’m home,” Crowing, Stiles clammers into their—his and Derek’s—home, finding his husband of four months lounging on their couch with a stack of papers sitting atop their glass coffee table besides him. (Stiles tried telling Lydia that they weren’t exactly the fancy coffee table type—like at all—But of course she just shooed him away and continued on decorating the home in whatever way she found fit.) Honest to God Stiles didn’t care about the colors of the drapes, or being barred from anything but leather sofas or deciding between paint or wall paper for their dining room, he’d love the place no matter what. really, Stiles is still in aw that Derek was able to keep the project a secret for as long as he did, only revealing to Stiles the house he has been tentatively building for the past two years after their honeymoon. It’s all big, spacious rooms (for whenever the pack come to stay over) and wide partitions (because he knows that natural light helps keep away Stiles’ headaches,) and a huge yard teetering into the forest line because—“When I was a kid, I loved the fact that we had so much space to just run around—ya know?“ 

It was all Stiles could do not to kiss him senseless at the sight of the soft blush that promptly colored his bunny ears at the confession, that Derek envisions having a whole brood of youngsters with Stiles. That Derek sees them spending their days running around like some extremely attractive version of the Brady Bunch, (Because let’s be serous there’d be no Oliver in their version—No way in hell Derek Hale would ever have unattractive offspring.)

“Why do you insist on shouting that every time?” Derek doesn’t break his concentration from the note he’s scrawling in pink pen—pink pen because “Stiles,It’s been scientifically proven that red ink have more of a detrimental effect on the student’s learning!—“ on the left column of the page—His teeth clammed around the tip’s cover.

“Come on boo,” Derek folds his legs—giving Stiles just enough room to squeeze into the space. “Don’t ya wanna fulfill that old married trope early on, ya know so we have no surprises in the future?”

Derek raises a very unimpressed brow—And fuck it if those works of art would ever stop getting Stiles going.

“Dude! Try it, it’s fun!” Stiles insist, his tongue waggling through his front teeth. “Or else one of these days, one of these days Derek!” He swings his fist around in the air mockingly.

“Did you just threaten to beat me with a poor imitation of the catch phrase of some 1950s ass?”

“Be still my heart,” Stiles jerks back. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband!”

“You’re a menace,” Derek deadpans while adding onto the substantially shorter complete pile. 

“No No man no worries I like you more.” Stiles leaps onto him, straddling Derek’s hips and rocking into him. “You actually get my references and you’re just as hot! That my dear Watson is definitely goals.” He winks down at a very fondly exasperated Derek, one dressed in an adorably soft sweater that Melissa knitted all of them for Christmas—the deep green making his Kaleidoscope eyes even more stupidly insane. And seriously if Stiles ever had a Spanish teacher as sexy as Derek fucking Hale, well he suspects he’d be residing in some sort of Spaniard beach right about now, acclimating easily with the locals.

Stiles may or may not preen at how the hot teacher™ is all his.)

“I don’t know if that’s your gun or your dick?” 

“Oooo yeah baby, romance me some more.”

Derek has on one of his patent who the fuck have I promised my life too looks—which mainly consists of his eye brows scrunched up in wonderment, and his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip, so to fight against the smile threatening to curl on the corners of his sinful mouth.

“I have to do some grading before spring break,” he informs Stiles, as if it were explanation enough.

“I knew it!” Stiles falls back, sprawling on the sectional like a starfish. “You know they always say that it’s the sex that goes first.”

Derek stiffens. “You think our sex prowls has suddenly vanished.”

“Yup,” he pops the last syllable teasingly. 

“So this morning’s activities were just a fluke?” Derek needles.

Hmmm, morning sex with Derek—Now that’s a nice thought. Once upon a time Stiles had despised mornings like nothing else—Especially Mondays like today. But that was before he was introduced to the phenomenon that is Derek’s “good morning” blow jobs, and how could Stiles forget about the ridiculously awesome shower sex… (Ya know because they are totally environmentally conscious…And well Stiles would take any chance he’s got to tap that ass.)

“That was like twelve hours ago my man, woe were the days when we did it like every chance we got!”

“You mean like Saturday?”

Stiles gives him a shit eating grin in lieu of an answer.

“Menace,” Derek growls out through clenched teeth—But Stiles really doesn’t complain over the slight when Derek follows it up by immediately starting to undue his holster, and unzipping his trousers. 

 

***

 

“Fine, fineee. You’re right, our sex life is just as awesome as it was at the start of our little may December fling. But I think we should keep up with hourly inspections— at the very least, just for science reasons.”

Derek sinks his teeth into the patch of skin on Stiles’ shoulder where he was lazily mouthing, using his tongue to trace the constellation of his moles, while Derek’s hand softly hovered over Stiles’ happy trail, spelling out silent “I love yous,” and every so often slipping below the waste line teasingly, making it so a burning sensation pulses against Stiles’ entirety.

“Hey, just a joke old man,” Stiles tosses his head back with a booming sort of laughter.

“You’ve never been funny.”

“Bullshit! My jokes is what got you in the sack with me in the first place!” 

“Honestly, I think I used that as a deterrent.”

“So the underage bit wasn’t enough of a motivator huh?” A soft pink touches the tops of Derek’s impossible cheekbones, and Stiles could barely able to contain his glee. “Oh man you really had it bad for me! You were like totally head over heals lusting over my ass weren’t you?”

“I think I’m gonna divorce you now,” is all Derek grunts out before pealing off of where he was practically melded onto Stiles, and struts—in all his naked glory—to the master bath.

“Oh, so what? You can pine for me for another five years!” Stiles taunts while following after him so to brush his teeth. 

“I’ll call Boyd in the morning for the details of the proceedings, you can keep the Jeep so as long as I get everything else.” Derek scoffs while stepping into their jacuzzi like tub—a very nice addition if Stiles had anything to say about it—And begins to wash himself off.

Stiles was just about to offer to help—which really translates to more fun sexy times, and they both know it—but then he catches his reflection in the mirror.

“Yo Edward Collin, you really need to chill with these little love marks. I really don’t wanna have another awkward run in with Deputy Saldana, and my dad.” Stiles shutters at the memory of his father needing to give him a stern, but painfully awkward, talking to about needing to cover up things like hickeies for “Propriety at the work place son…Oh and I swear to God if another deputy comes to me about catching you two fooling around at your desk!” 

Another shutter runs through him, because yeah, Stiles really does not need another lecture like that.

“Just wear a scarf or something,” Derek reasons indignantly, moving behind Stiles so to prod the offending mark. Stiles really tries to be annoyed about how he’s preening, but really he loves the fact that Derek does things like this, or Senting, or whatever—Fuck it, Stiles just likes having Derek all territorial over his ass, and him returning the favor. (yeah they are totally the worst—Maybe even rivaling Scott and Alison’s Romeo and Juliet shtick.) 

“Besides that being totally obvious, I don’t think we’re really allowed to wear scarfs with our uniforms boo. And even if we were, Issac wouldn’t let me in a ten foot radius of his collection.”

“He’s just got a new shipment from some snooty Parisian boutique,” Derek nods solemnly, obviously distressed over his bata’s fashion choices.

“You’re lucky,” Stiles chides, waving his finger accusingly at a very confused looking Derek. “You wolves and your annoying, voodoo healing powers!”

“Stiles—It’s not vu—“

“Lies! Just admit it Der, you are lucky because you never have to worry about your students making up creepy stories about your sex-capades,and stupid Justine will just perpetually think you’re in a sexless marriage, and continue flipping her stupid, shiny hair and fluttering her come hither lashes at you until you finally fuck!”

Derek just stands there for a second, looking as if a fray train had just run him over as he was trying to piece together Stiles’ diatribe.

“Okay first off—I’m pretty sure just about every teacher from my department, and half of the remainder have caught us in some state of undress in my office—so yeah. No one definitely thinks I’m not, erm—active in that part of my life. And about the Justine thing—Stiles you know that you’re it for me, right?” Derek slides a hand to fold onto the back of Stiles neck, playing with the wisps of hair. “There’s no one else in the world who can even remotely rival this… Like no matter what, you will always be the singular person I care about more than everything or anyone else on this planet.” His skin is a fetching red at this point—As if abashed to put his feelings in so many words. And Stiles gets it, Derek has always been more of a man of action—Whether it’s backflipping shirtless into the meat of some sort of intense fight against that week’s big bad, or it’s kissing stiles within an edge of his life after he thought some ancient vampire, humanoid thing had injured Stiles after his first summer back from college. “You’ve gotta know that I love you.” 

A small smile melts into stiles features, feeling like he’s actually fluttering at the conviction in which Derek speaks the words with—It’s never wavered from the first time they said it, and Stiles really thinks it never will. “Yeah, yeah I love you to slugger. But I can’t help wanting to mark my territory, Just to see stupid Justine’s stupid face getting all jealous that I got my claws in you first.”

“Claws in me?” 

“Yeah, unless you prefer some other idiom? Got you under my spell? Blinded you with my charms? Had you at hello—Oh, ah I guess at really sexy glaring matches in our case huh? Or maybe I bewitched you?”

“Isn’t that the same as you got me under your spell?”

“Well I am a spark babe, I thought it was a nice little theme. And besides I don’t hear you denying any of them!”

“Never wanted to,” Derek counters smugly before commencing to melt Stiles brain out with another star spangled kiss.

It’s easy for Stiles to cup his hand against Derek’s cheek, while the other one finds the microscopic dimples on the bottom of his back, right before the muscle gave way to a perfectly rounded ass, it was practically second nature at this point—finding the places where they fit.

“I still wish I could give you a real good hickey to show off to any of those thirsty single moms and lusting co-workers,” Stiles mutters against his lips.

“I never said we couldn’t continue to try—Ya know for the good of human kind?” He smirks wolfishly at Stiles, a mischievous gleam in his brilliant eyes—And oh yeah, Stiles is so totally lost on him. Derek Hale has wrecked him for all other people in the galaxy, and Stiles really wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

 

***

 

“Woah Stilinski, you reek of sex.”

“Me and Derek are conducting a science experiment,” Stiles shrugs past Jackson into the apartment that his girlfriend and Danny share. 

“Fuck, bro I do not need to hear all the shit you and my pack leader get up to between the sheets!” Jackson glowers, his eyes flashing gold—but seriously he should know that his little werewolf trick hasn’t scared Stiles in almost a decade at this point. (If anything it kind of turns him on whenever Derek ends up losing control during sex, and his eyes flash the ruby red of an alfa.

“Who ever said it was purely in the sheets dude? Seriously I have to pity you and Lydia’s sex lives if that’s about as frisky as ya’ll get.”

“Stilinski!” Jackson barks out, visibly despaired over deciding whether to clamp his ears shut, or bare his teeth at the insinuation.

“Stiles stop scarring Jackson,” Danny intones from the living room.

“There he is, Danny-boy! Our future Mayor!” Stiles greets, happy to end his arbitrary conversation with Jackson—who for the record is still a complete and total douche schnozzle

“Not quite, it’s still really early on.” Danny reasons, even though he can’t help a small, tepid grin from poking out at it’s own accord.

“Oh please man, you’re hot with the brains to boot, you’re totally destined to be Mayor Mahealani!” Stiles assures flippantly as he drifts towards the fridge for a drink.

“No! Not that!” Danny shouts in a panic, a very fearful looking Jackson bouncing on the tips of his feet behind him.

“Ah—Didn’t realize you guys were so stingy with you’re drinks,” Stiles blinks, his hand going slack from where he was about to pop the lid of the Starbucks latte in his grasp.

“We’re not,” Danny sniffs as if he did not just commence to snatch it from Stiles’ grasp. “But that’s Lydia’s soy milk, moca, chai Latte—It’s all she can drink on this new diet she’s on, and she’d kill us if we drank it.”

“So, just tell her you bought your own,” Stiles speaks very slowly, as if he were talking to a daft three year old.

“Look at the fucking front dumbass,” Jackson snaps, gesticulating angrily at the face of the bottle—and there it was. A big, round shaped sticker with the strongly printed “”Property of Lydia M,” on it.

“Wow—This is serious huh?”

The boys nod in unison, there eyes shadowed with what must be a very unpleasant memory of one of them drinking it despite the very pronounced declaration that this was her property, and being granted a very harsh lecture by the queen of Beacon Hills for their insolence.

And oh—Stiles thinks he might have himself a nice little idea.

 

***

 

“There’s my sexy, sexy Spanish teacher.” 

With a start, Derek looks up from where he was peering—Stiles only finds it slightly adorable how he was so focussed on the task at hand that he apparently zoned out everything else around him—Stiles idly wonders just how many students must’ve stared longly at his hunched form without his even knowing it.

“Hey you,” Derek’s smile really is something to be painted for future generations to understand what true beauty looked like. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles returns the cursory kiss of hello with a bit more fervor than what was at all necessary—Especially with Derek’s persistent fear that one of his students may walk in at any moment.

“I can’t just bring my hubby some lunch?” 

“No—NO you can’t, unless of course you expect a little afternoon delight in return.”

“Afternoon Delight,” Stiles parrots fondly. “Dude, you really do have the soul of some sort of victorian maiden or something, don’t you?”

“And you have the soul of a man who really doesn’t know how to get himself laid,” Derek smears smugly as he beckons Stiles to hand over the Panera bag.

“Rude, I think you’ve really hurt me Der…Now if there was only a way that you could help mend this pain. Hmmm” He taps his pointer finger against his chin.

“Stiles, I am not having sex in my classroom—again. Remember, we said that we’d try to be real adults?”

“I know, I know—But I have a little idea that I’d really like to try out,” Stiles sulks—Brilliant amber eyes peering up at Derek seductively—It’s pretty obvious when Derek’s resolve completely crumbles and he races to slams the door shut. (30 seconds at max.) Fuck, Stiles really loves the fact that he’s the only person to ever make Derek Hale so submissive.

“Last time?” 

“Sure,” Stiles shrugs, remembering when they swore to each other a very similar promise, approximately 72 hours ago.

Stiles sinks to his knees, and Derek’s eyes turn to the size of the moon once he begins pumping through his boxers—the front already stained with a splotch of pre-cum. 

“No…N—no time—,” Derek squeaks out, jutting his hips forward with the rhythm of Stiles hand. Now ordinarily Stiles would totally argue against him, and tease him even more, but he’s on a mission god damn it. SO instead, he slips down the superman boxers he had bought for Derek—you know to match his batman ones, and only gives himself a sparing moment to appreciate how Derek’s dick is already throbbing once it bounces out of the restraints, 

but instead of moving to lick against the head, Stiles presses his lips to Derek’s thigh—Trying to decide between being resentful that the dude literally has 5% of actual body fat, or being elated that he’s all his. either way, Stiles just sucks long and hard enough that he’s positive that it would make a mark, and sure enough, as he slowly pulls back, he can see the skin begin to mend itself from the bite mark.

Immediately, before Derek could gripe about how much of a tease Stiles can be, he peals off one of the stickers he has secured in his pocket, and triumphantly slaps it onto Derek’s stupidly bronze skin.

Most likely taken aback by the sudden sensation, Derek glances down from where he was staring off into space, reading the words out loud.

“Property of Stiles S?”

“Yup,” he simpers smugly. “So whenever there’s supposed to be a hickey or whatever, I can trade it in for one of these babies, and the same effect will be there.”

Derek’s brows shoot up in shock, with his lips parted in what’s probably another barrage of diatribes telling Stiles how ridiculous he’s being. 

But instead of barreling them out, Derek pulls Stiles up by the collar of his uniform, and kisses him senseless right there—Half naked in his classroom where anyone could see.

“Me claiming you as your own really gets ya going hey big guy?”

“Less talking,” Derek moans, kissing Stiles’ neck, and trailing up to his lips as he pushes him against Derek’s desk, and gets a firm grip of both their dicks.

 

***

 

Derek buys his own personalized set of stickers, reasoning that the Sheriff really can’t say anything if Stiles’ covers up his own hickeies with them.

it becomes a game of sorts for them from that point on. They find new inventive, and playful places where they could mark the other, and challenging each other to see who uses all their respective “Property of,” stickers first.

Everyone is about done with the whole ordeal when Stiles walks into one of their pack meetings with a whole array of “Property of Derek,” stickers being clearly visible through his white pants—perfectly matching Derek’s own.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first kind of sex thing I've ever written...DOn't look at me
> 
> Come gush with me about these dorks on my [Tumblr](http://madziethemagnificent.tumblr.com) XD   
> Or go ahead and shoot me a prompt ;)


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